I Said I'd Get Married—Just Not to Her

Claire Sullivan—my girlfriend of eight years—pushed another glass toward me.

"Come on. Don't be mad," she said. "Daniel and I only got married because we lost a round of Truth or Dare last time."

She shrugged as if it were nothing. "It's not a big deal. Once the year is up, we'll get divorced."

She said it so casually, so confidently, as if she'd already decided I would be willing to wait another year for her.

Daniel, on the other hand, was starting to panic.

"Everyone was egging us on that night," he said quickly. "I never thought it would actually go this far."

He looked at me almost pleadingly. "Don't be mad at me, okay? We've been friends for years. You're not really going to let this ruin our friendship, are you?"

Someone beside him immediately chimed in. "Exactly. It was just a joke. That's why we kept it from you."

I listened to them, feeling my heart grow colder with every word.

They all knew about it. They'd talked about it, laughed about it, and somehow convinced themselves they hadn't done anything wrong. As if I were supposed to laugh along with them. As if I were the unreasonable one for being hurt.

In the end, I was the only one who hadn't known. The only one who'd been made a complete fool.

I stood up, and Claire frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Just getting some air," I said.

Her expression tightened, a flicker of impatience replacing the concern I'd almost imagined was there.

"Okay, that's enough. Stop making a scene."

I looked at her and almost laughed.

A scene? Apparently, I was already an outsider.

I turned away without another word and walked to the far edge of the yacht, leaving the laughter and conversation behind me.

The wind whipped against my face. Beyond the railing, the ocean stretched into the darkness, vast and endless.

I pulled out my phone and called Father. He answered after a few rings, sounding surprised to hear from me.

"Julian? It's late. What's going on? Why are you calling all of a sudden?"

I tightened my grip on the phone, my fingers cold.

"You mentioned an arranged marriage before," I said. "I'll agree to it."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then I heard Mother take the phone from him.

"Julian, are you serious?"

"Yes." My voice was steady.

"Have you really thought this through?"

"I have." I stared out at the distant lights flickering across the water. Strangely, my voice sounded calmer than I felt. "I don't want to wait for Claire anymore."

Father's voice immediately sharpened with concern. "Did Claire do something? Where are you? We'll come pick you up."

"Don't worry about me," I said. "I'll come home and tell you everything."

When I was a child, I was switched at birth and didn't find my way back to my biological family until I was a teenager.

My birth parents had always wanted me home. They tried to make up for all the years we'd lost, but no matter how hard they tried, I could never shake the feeling that there was an invisible wall between us.

Then I met Claire.

For years, I convinced myself that as long as I had her, none of that mattered. I didn't need to know where I truly belonged. I didn't need the family I'd lost.

As long as Claire was by my side, I had everything I needed.

Looking back now, I realize how wrong I was.

I'd spent years underestimating my own worth, convincing myself that having Claire was enough. When in reality, I'd simply valued her far more than she ever valued me.

Father's voice softened. "Do you want to meet her first? You know, before you agree to the marriage?"

"No," I said. "I trust you to choose the right person for me."

After hanging up, I stood alone at the edge of the yacht for a long time.

Behind me, the music was still playing, along with the laughter.

No one had noticed I was gone. Or perhaps no one cared. They were probably still drinking, joking, and having the time of their lives.

To them, what had happened tonight was nothing more than a harmless joke, a little entertainment at my expense.

A moment later, my phone buzzed. A message from Claire lit up the screen.

"Stop messing around. Come back."

I stared at it, and suddenly, I was back in college.

It was winter, and Claire had just lost her first business venture. I'd found her crouched on the side of the road, a cigarette burning between her fingers. When she looked up at me, her eyes were red.

"Julian," she'd asked quietly, "am I really that useless?"

I sat beside her and told her without hesitation, "It's okay. You still have me. I'll always have your back."

Back then, I meant every word.

Now, looking at her message, I realized just how much I'd given to someone who had never valued it. I deleted it and turned off my phone.

That night, standing alone at the edge of the yacht, I finally decided to leave Claire.